The Big Revival
by thetideisrising
Summary: In a sleepy Pennsylvania town, sisters Clara and Rose Tyler become intrigued with their mysterious neighbor, Matthew Smith, uncovering secrets that were tightly knit a decade previously. Who is Matthew? What are the Caronite sisters planning? And how does all of this apply to Clara? (reposted and improved)
1. Kicking Up Red Dust

**Hello everyone, and welcome to my first Doctor Who multi-chap! I am** _ **so**_ **excited to be presenting this piece, and although it's a wee bit strange (** _eleven/rose au?_ **) I am confident that it will be enjoyed. For those of you who have not read** _ **Fix You,**_ **my pen name is thetideisrising and I tend to hang out in the Agents of SHIELD section of this website because I have loved Iain de Caestecker since my date of birth and Elizabeth Henstridge is the queen of all queens. This should be a fun little fic, I'm not planning on it being more then five chapters, and it will be updated after I update my other aos multi-chap** _ **The Choices We Make,**_ **which is my main priority. Also, I am now taking prompts for doctor/rose fics (preferably ten, eleven, or twelve I don't have anything against nine I actually love him but I don't ship nine/rose sorry) Also, all the chapter titles are lyrics from Kenny Chesney's American kids, which I do not own. So I'm glad that everyone decided to take a peek at this and I'm sorry about my tedious authors note. I do not own Doctor Who. Enjoy!**

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 _Mud-Luscious and Puddle-Wonderful_

Prologue: Yellow Dog School Bus, Kicking Up Red Dust

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" _Yeah life throws you curves, but you learn to swerve."_

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Her honey blond curls flying, Rose Tyler slid down the steel slide with a naïve grin plastered on her face.

"Again!" she cried, and despite her mother's protests from the window, her father placed her on top of the slide once more.

Her father was the only corn farmer on the west side of the township, and even though corn was very high in demand in this part of Pennsylvania, the family was still having some financial difficulties.

They probably would have been much better off had the Caronite sisters not moved in next door. The three elderly sisters were notorious for spreading rumors about, and seeing that the three of them had deep roots in the towns of the nearby area, whatever they say, goes.

The eldest sister had a very troubled daughter. Her name was Skylar, and preferring to be called Sky, she was fine for the first twenty years of her life. Then she wound up pregnant, and really was never the same again. The boy was born fourteen years ago from the day, and his name was Harold Saxon. The entire county dreaded the day that the boy claimed his family's farm.

The middle sister had no children, and she deemed that when she died she wanted her wealth to be passed onto Harry. The poor boy was already as insane as an asylum; he did not need any more power coursing through his already filthy veins.

The last sister had one son whom she called John. John was a compassionate man who was generally very quiet at all of the family ordeals. His aunts had cursed him, saying that men like him didn't wind up with anything at all. John, always the brains of the family, was accepted to The Gallifrey Academy for The Blessed, and while there he met his wife, Ramona. They married in a quiet ceremony, and three years later their son Matthew was born. When the boy was ten, his family took him to the academy for a class reunion. While there, the building caught on fire and everyone but Matthew perished in the flames.

Matthew's grandmother had died as well, and his great aunts inherited the boy. Four years younger than Harry, Matthew was given all the difficult tasks. His great aunts refused to see him as an equal to Harry, and though he was a better candidate for the land, his great-aunts would hear none of it.

When Matthew had a free moment, he would spend it overlooking the Tyler's property. Their innocence was soothing to him, and he longed to swing next to their daughter.

Really he just wanted a family.

Sighing, Matthew trudged away with the bucket of water he was required to fill. The Tyler's daughter would start school soon, and he considered it a blessing. He wasn't so popular at school.

Matthew climbed the stairs to the front porch and sat on the top step. He had Amy and Rory, and his sister Clara. He sniffed as memories of her resurfaced. She was younger than him, and he had hid her away from his aunts. They did not even know about the baby girl hiding in their basement.

Suddenly an idea came to him; he could give her up. It was a miracle she didn't cry already and he needed somewhere safe for her to grow up until he was able to come and get her.

With a small smile on his face, he started to mop the floors.

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When he was sure everyone had fallen asleep, he started out of the house.

The warm glow of the Tyler's kitchen light comforted him as he trekked across the front lawn. When he reached the front porch, he climbed the two worn stairs and knocked on the red door.

He heard footsteps on the other side and sighed in relief when Pete Tyler answered the door, a small frown playing at his lips as he looked down in amusement at the young boy, lips slowly curling into a small smile at the young child in his arms.

"What are you doing here, boy?" he asked, amusement fading from his face, replaced with lines of worry.

He opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by a booming feminine voice. "Pete! What the hell are you doing up at this ungodly hour!"

Though he had never seen the woman, he knew the source of the voice. Jackie had a high drawl, if he were to guess he assumed that she had grown on Long Island, the way she threw words back in forth in a spew of nonsense at a rapid pace reminded him of his childhood friend River, who was raised there.

His eyes watered as the pair in front of him fought desperately, Clara fisting his short hair as he sniffled. She let out a low whimper, and staring at the one-year old girl, dark tufts of hair emerging from her head he knew that this was the right decision.

"Mrs. Tyler," he said quietly.

The blonde woman stared at him. "What do you want boy?"

He gulped. "My sister…" trailing off he raised her in his arms. "They'd kill her if they knew that she was alive."

Jackie's eyes widened.

"You don't have to keep her," he reassured. "But please, just find a place where she can survive."

Though Jackie seemed skeptical, Pete nodded solemnly.

"What's her name?" he asked, his eyes staring at the girl's.

Matthew swallowed. "Clara. Clara Oswin-Oswald Smith." Noting Pete's raised eyebrow he continued. "My mother's maiden name was Oswald."

He nodded. "We'll take her."

Jackie grabbed Clara from his arms, and for fifteen years, he did not see hide nor hair of her.

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 **Yeah this was pretty bad but you know whatever. The chapters will be much longer than this, this is just a prologue. Like it? Love it? Absolutely hate it? Let me know. Cheers! xx**


	2. We Were Teenage Dreaming

**Here is the next chapter! I hope everyone enjoys! So, I didn't change the last author's note, BUT, this is a repost, however, I never posted anything past the prologue cause I was too busy to write. I will actually be putting a lot of time in this story, and hopefully, will be updating it on a bi-weekly, if not monthly basis. I'm sorry but I am a rather busy person who is going through some trauma right now, so this is just a heads up. It would be great if you guys could review, because I don't have any feedback on this one, and I would like to see how you lot are liking it. You can find me on tumblr under the user trenzalwhore if you have any questions or suggestions, or you can always PM me. As a warning, this chapter includes the tw of abuse and depression, so if that triggers you, skip the part where Clara sits on the bed. I hope you enjoy! Reminder that I do not own Doctor Who or Kenny Chesney!**

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 _Chapter 1: We Were Teenage Dreaming_

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"Clara Tyler what the hell were you thinking?" Jackie Tyler exclaimed, eyes ablaze as her youngest daughter came whirl winding into the kitchen.

"Sorry Mum," she replied, a sincere voice in her tone. "And it's Oswald isn't it? Or was it Smith? Oh! Maybe it was Oswin."

Her mother rolled her eyes. "All three you genius child. You've got colleges lined up near and far but I told them they wasn't having you until you were eighteen."

Clara opened her mouth in mock hurt. "Has MIT showed up yet, when they do I am leaving just so you know. I think the boy next door, oh what is his name… Matthew! Yes Matthew! Goes to MIT and I will unload him with questions."

"Nah," Jackie shook her head, drying the dishes as her daughter perched herself on the corner of the counter. "I think he goes to Stanford, though he's a genius too, you could probably ask him all about MIT, they probably chased him as well."

As if remembering why she was there in the first place, Jackie continued her yelling. "Why would you tell me Rose was at the library when she sure as heck isn't?"

Clara shrugged and shoved another biscuit in her mouth. "Hell if I know, I'm only fifteen, though I will be sixteen on Saturday. How am I supposed to know what nineteen year old women are doing with their lives?" Clara pursed her lips. "Although I suppose it has something to do with college. I know it's summer and all, but why isn't she in Penn State again? I mean if I were her I would be loading up on my courses and I'd probably be a first semester junior by now." She took another bite in her biscuit as her mother stared at her in disbelief. "What?"

Jackie slowly shook her head. "Where's Tony?"

Clara's younger brother Tony was twelve, and the last of the three Tyler children. He was also the only of the three who did not remember their dad, who perished in a hit and run when Tony was one. His death had taken a part of Jackie with him, and although she was coming around now, it had taken her years in order to smile.

"He's at Mickey's," she replied, jumping off of the counter and landing on top of the floor with a small thud. "It's getting dark though, I can go pick him up if you'd like."

Jackie rolled her eyes at her youngest daughter.

"That would be nice of you sweetheart," she said, tilting her head in disbelief.

Clara's eyes widened, and she jumped from the counter.

"Right on it mum!" she yelled over her shoulder before skipping out the front door.

Pete had moved here from London directly after he graduated college, and one thing that he never could kick, was the accent. They always got weird looks, the three of them, Rose, and Tony with their lower accents, and Clara with a little mix of everything. There was one other Brit in the town, Matthew, who happened to live next door to them. It was quite strange that there even was another person from the UK within a hundred miles of them; rural Pennsylvania was typically the last place that one would be.

It was funny, Clara mused as she made her way to Mickey's house, brows furrowed in an attempt to sort things out. He shared a common heritage with them, and yet he was never around to talk to.

She shrugged, beginning her march up the driveway diligently. She had always thought that he had social anxiety disorder or something, and she respected that. It wasn't going to help her get into MIT, but Clara Tyler had always been good at cracking codes, especially when it came to humans.

"Tony!" she called, turning the corner to enter the open garage.

"Oh," she said, immediately uncomfortable as realized who was sitting on Mickey's stool.

"Hello then."

Matthew looked up, his eyes widening as they locked onto hers. He opened his mouth, before rapidly shutting it and then opening it again.

"Hello," he said, and even though she knew that he was British, the accent was still a shock. "Are you Rose Tyler's sister?"

She nodded, slightly furrowing her brow at the way her sister's name rolled off of his tongue.

"Yes," she replied, cautiously taking a step into the garage. "I'm Clara, Clara Tyler. I'm looking for my little brother, Tony."

He looked nostalgic, and she remained puzzled.

"That's a beautiful name, Clara," he replied, completely ignoring the second part of her statement.

"Oi!" she exclaimed, stomping towards him and hitting him on top of his head. "Just because I'm a girl, doesn't mean you have the right to hit on me!"

He looked disgusted, and raised his hands in defense.

"No! God, I would never hit on you! You, you just remind me of someone I used to know," he confessed, and she scoffed in response.

"Well, whoever she was, I'm not her."

He smiled grimly and nodded.

She took the time to take in his appearance, noting the strange tweed jacket and bow tie combination. He was pretty scrawny, she had to admit, and the ratio of the jacket compared to his frame was a little daunting.

"Well then, Clara Tyler," he drawled the last word leaving behind a bitter taste in his mouth. "Your brother is in the laundry rom washing his pants, he appears to have spilled some grease on them."

She scoffed, perching herself on the stool opposite of him, raising her neck in the process. If she was going to be stuck talking to him, she might as well take advantage of it.

"So…" she began, narrowing her eyes at him to appear superior. "I heard you went to Stanford."

He laughed whilst shaking his head.

"No, MIT. Stanford did go after me though, so did Yale," he added the last part as if it was a secret forbidden to be told.

Her eyes lightened in victory, and she smiled widely, leaning forward to partake in the exchange.

"Tell me about it! Is it as glorious as it appears online?"

He smiled wickedly, and just as he was about to continue, the door to the house swung open.

"Tony!" Clara exclaimed, jumping off of the stool to stand near her little brother.

Tony smiled broadly, grasping at her hand.

"Clara, look, I washed off my pants! Mum will be so proud!" he said, gesturing to his pants.

She laughed in return.

"They look as good as new," she said before turning toward Matthew. "Come over to the house at noon tomorrow Matthew. We'll have lunch and discuss MIT."

He appeared conflicted, and she watched as he fiddled with his bow tie.

"Are you sure that it's okay with your mum?" he asked.

She shrugged, a piece of hair falling from her ponytail.

"I don't know, she's going out to lunch with some close girlfriends" she answered. "But, Rose will definitely be okay with it, she's not scheduled to go out with Shareen or Jimmy tomorrow so she'll be around."

If she knew him better, she would have seen the slight quiver of his bottom lip when she mentioned her older sister, but he did his best to hide that the action even took place at all.

He smiled brightly.

"Alright then Clara Tyler!" he exclaimed. "And it's Matt by the way, Matthew makes me sound a thousand years old."

She laughed, and she made her way to the door, dragging Tony behind her.

"Okay! Tell Mickey I said goodbye!"

And with that, she spun on her heel and ran off into the dark.

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Rose didn't show up until after dinner.

Clara, always the obedient sister, was waiting for her in her room at preciously eleven o'clock, a dish of concealer in hand. She drummed her fingers against the cool metal, her other hand twitching as she counted the minutes that passed the time she was assigned.

The door creaked, and Clara's head snapped upward as she was greeted with the sight of her battered sister.

"Rose," she whispered, patting the bed in a welcoming gesture and slightly frowning at her older sister's appearance.

The bruising on her cheek was more noticeable than usual, and Clara softly shook her head as Rose sat down beside her.

"You need to stop doing this," she said, knowing that her words fell upon empty ears.

Rose had always enjoyed the rush of ecstasy, and she had terrible self-esteem. She was prescribed anti-depressants when she was fifteen, and she still took them daily. Tony was unaware of her oldest sister's condition, and Clara constantly found herself being a protector of the closely guarded secret. Even Jackie didn't know about her daughter's string of dangerous relationships.

"I know Clara," she responded, her head hanging in exhaustion. "It's just… I don't know how."

Clara continued her work, busily icing the purple bruising on her face and, carefully pouring out the correct amount of painkillers.

"Here," she said, handing her a glass of water that she had prepared earlier, half melted ice cubes keeping the liquid at a cool temperature.

Rose looked at her in alarm.

"Does this…"

Clara cleared her throat.

"No."

Rose shrugged in response, and diligently swallowed the pills, finishing them off with a large swig of water.

Clara finished two hours later, covering the raw skin with a concealer she had found at Sephora that matched Rose's skin tone exactly. It was very expensive, but well worth it. The make-up was waterproof, and didn't rub off unless you used the proper remover. Clara and Rose chipped in their weekly earnings to buy a dish; heaven knows that Rose went through it way faster than the most.

"You're done," she said, and Rose nodded appreciatively.

"Thank you," she responded as Clara made her way to the door.

"I almost forgot!" Clara exclaimed, turning on her heal to face her bewildered sister.

"What?" Rose asked, any lingering dark emotions from earlier long gone.

"You won't believe who is coming over tomorrow!"

"Who?" Rose now had an amused smile on her face, raising her hand on her hip.

Clara leaned forward, her lips turning upward to gauge her sister's reaction.

"Matthew Smith."

Rose flashed her a wicked smile.

"Good night!" Clara exclaimed, skipping out of the room to leave her sister to her thoughts.


End file.
